


i have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night

by foxbones



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Star Wars AU, emma is a gun-slingin' bounty hunter who can't stand jedi, henry is a padawan with a braid and a heart the size of a galaxy, regina is a jedi (or...is...she), ruby and mulan are along for the ride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 22:18:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7379650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxbones/pseuds/foxbones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“My name is Regina. This is my Padawan, Henry. May we board your ship, or would you prefer to tie us to the stern?”</p><p>What she’d prefer is to not be so attracted to this extremely frustrating practitioner of mystical horseshit, but that’s not exactly in Emma Swan’s wheelhouse of decisions right now.</p><p>or, the one where they're in a galaxy far far away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. episode one

**Author's Note:**

> STOOR WOORS™
> 
> BOUNTY HUNTERS™
> 
> JEDI™
> 
> LIGHTSABERS™
> 
> LESBIAN SEX™
> 
> PACING ISSUES™
> 
> STOOR WOORS™

 

 

 

 

Emma Swan knows she’s got a problem the moment she takes this job.

As jobs go, it’s a doozy. Gun-for-hire, bounty hunter, whatever you want to call it - it’s the kind of employment where the stakes are high and the blasters are hot. You expect a few real pains in the ass if you’re gonna get paid. What you don’t expect is the good guys getting involved.

By good guys, Emma means the Jedi. Not that the universe can be divided down the center into the good and bad; if Emma has learned nothing else in this line of work, it’s that everyone is totally and completely grey as hell. The Jedi seem to enjoy ignoring this fact. Sanctimonious bastards. This, Emma has lectured the crew on a number of occasions, is exactly why you don’t mix mysticism with a goddamned fire sword. Get someone high and mighty and give them a weapon, you’re gonna have problems. The second they think some all-powerful force is justifying their behavior and the only thing you are is in their way.

“We get it,” Mulan says, stirring the excuse this particular spaceport’s counter calls a dinner. “You hate the Jedi.”

Emma points a finger across the table. “I do not _hate_ them, Fa. Hate is a strong word.”

“You strongly dislike them, then.” Red’s in her humanoid form, shrugging in her crimson jacket. “I can only assume some Jedi stole your karsak sweets as a child, and you forever held a grudge--”

Emma doesn’t need to get into this particular round of history, so she brushes it off, shakes her head. “I’m just saying, there’s a reason we don’t take jobs with these headcases. They got their godly missions, we got ours. And never the two should mix, etcetera, etcetera.”

Mulan rolls her eyes, far too used to these diatribes. “You’re the one that agreed to the target, Swan.”

“That was before I found out we were going to be accompanied by a kook and its miniature kook.”

“They’re called padawan.”

“I don’t care what you call them. I don’t want them on my ship. ”

Red tips back her bowl, making a face. “Well, _I_ want to get paid. In case you haven’t noticed, this is the biggest payload in a thousand cycles. Finish this job, and we never have to eat this slop again.”

Emma points at the greenish sludge with her utensil. “Hey, you eat that slop and you enjoy it. This is enjoyable slop.” 

“It tastes like the dark end of a Hutt.”

“And how do you know what that tastes like?”

Red waggles her eyebrows - or they look like eyebrows for now. “I’m full of mysteries, Swan. That’s what makes me such a good right hand.”

Mulan doesn’t look amused. “I thought I was the right hand.”

“No, you’re the left.”

“Calm down, team.” Emma holds up both palms. “I’m ambidextrous.”

 

 

 

 

They’re set to pick up these so-called ‘assets’ on Taanab. Red finds the signal at a spaceport just outside one of the clusters of factory farms, far removed from the planet’s few cities, and starts the descent. 

Emma’s in the cockpit, watching over the pilot’s shoulder. “Strange place to find a couple of Jedi, isn’t it? Not exactly the most interesting mound of grass.”

Red shrugs, a sly grin playing at her lips. “Maybe the Jedi have an investment in farming.”

“Direct competition with the Sith farms, sure.”

“Can’t imagine a Dark Side steak tasting all that good.”

“No better than the Jedi, I’d say. Too repressed. They have to reject anything delicious to feel closer to the Force. Guilty bastards.”

Mulan sticks her head in, currently in the stages of strapping her blasters under her jacket. “Are you two going to make bad jokes about agriculture, or are we going to land this pile of junk?”

 

 

 

 

The two hooded figures are waiting for them just beyond the dock, ready like clockwork.

Red’s watching from the cockpit, tilting her head to see the pair. The whole cloaks-billowing-in-the-wind thing is not helping the situation. “How’d they know we were here?”

“Jedi senses,” Mulan whispers, now properly suited up. She just about clinks with weaponry. Emma rolls her eyes, shoving past both of them to get to the porthole.

“It doesn’t take Jedi senses to tell the damn time, idiots.” She shows them the holographic symbols over her wrist, blinking the hour. “I don’t need the Force to read my numbers, do I?”

Red sighs. “You gonna be this touchy the whole job?”

Emma ignores the question and drops the ramp. Touchy her damn ass.

 

 

 

 

It only takes a minute to walk the length of the dock, but it’s a long minute for Emma. It’s a minute where she thinks about the few memories she hates to dredge up - rendering her all weak and edgy and too wound up at once. Each step on the blast-proof dock and she’s remembering the sound of blaster shots and explosions, heat on the back of her neck and someone’s hands picking her up from behind, hoisting her into the air. She remembers being pulled from darkened chambers, long high-ceilinged halls on fire around them, someone screaming in pain and fear. 

Most of all, she remembers the figures in the long robes, their lightsabers drawn. Where they pointed, flames danced and bodies went flying, pulling apart like dolls. All those on their knees, the Jedi beheaded. And when they had finally found her, still slung over the shoulder of an adult, she remembers the sudden shock of hitting the ground. The man carrying her was dead. And Emma, a child, her tiny hands trembling, had known to run. 

Emma takes a deep breath now as she approaches these Jedi. She picks up her shoulders, widens her gait. She may not feel it, but she wants to look like she owns this damn dock.

“I want to make something clear,” she says, knowing full well that Red and Mulan would have skulled her for starting the conversation this way. “I don’t like working with assets, and I don’t know why the hell your man didn’t think I could do the job on my own.”

The taller Jedi removes its hood. Emma has to stop herself from sharply inhaling.

Seven _fucking_ sectors of the afterworld damn it all, of all the fucking Jedi in the universe, it had to be a beautiful one.

“Because,” the Jedi says, dark eyes dancing. “We are the only ones who know the target’s location, and we are sworn to remain the only bearers of those coordinates.”

“So what am I supposed to do, read your damn mind?”

“We will offer our guidance.” The Jedi is looking Emma up and down, giving the bounty hunter a good shake of the ol’ ego. “This was already discussed when you agreed upon the assignment, bounty hunter. I do not see why there is a problem. We assumed you found the situation agreeable.”

“The reward’s agreeable. The rest of this is all sarlacc shit to me.”

“Sarlaccs do not defecate.” This from the shorter Jedi, who looks up from his hood to reveal a kid. A literal _kid_. When he sees Emma’s glare, he shrinks back a bit, and his voice drops to a whisper. “I mean, not like most creatures. Because of how they inhabit the subterranean pits, they actually--”

“Henry,” comes the quietly insistent note from his master, and this Padawan, now named Henry, lowers his head. Emma’s surprised to hear a tone of tenderness in the Jedi’s voice, but she keeps her mouth set. Eyes on the target, Swan.

“Let’s just make one thing clear: my team runs this mission. We make the decisions, you take the backseat. No mystical Jedi bullshit. No usurping my authority with your whole Force mumbo jumbo.”

There’s a tiny and extremely frustrating smile playing at the Jedi’s perfectly shaped lips. Emma could just about shoot a hole in her own ship for having to stop herself from staring at them. “I’m not sure what you expect of us, bounty hunter.”

“My name is Swan. Emma Swan. And I expect you to not muck this whole mission up.”

“A Jedi is not prone to...mucking up, Emma Swan.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“My name is Regina. This is my Padawan, Henry. May we board your ship, or would you prefer to tie us to the stern?”

What she’d prefer is to not be so attracted to this extremely frustrating practitioner of mystical horseshit, but that’s not exactly in Emma Swan’s wheelhouse of decisions right now.

 

 

 

 

The Padawan is watching Red switch the species of her hand, fingers morphing into claws, claws sprouting extra digits, all while Henry looks on enraptured. Emma laughs over her shoulder. Kid probably hasn’t been outside the temple library very much, much less the temple.

“Red’s a Clawdite. Shapeshifters, real nifty that way. She can be whatever she wants to be, look like just about anything in the universe.”

Red switches from humanoid to her fanged and hairy hybrid shape, and then back again. “I’m partial to that one, though.” Red says, grinning at the padawan, who has taken a step back in wonder. “You can call me Ruby or Red. Depends on what I look like, but I’m not too picky.”

Regina’s gaze sweeps over the deck, clearly unimpressed. “So these are your sidekicks.”

Mulan and Red both start at this. Red’s got a hand on her blaster. “We’re no _sidekicks_ , lady.”

Mulan shrugs. “I prefer trusted allies with unique skillsets.”

“I was under the impression that bounty hunters worked alone,” Regina says.

“Not all bounty hunters hold the year’s record for heads returned, but sure, you could say that we’re an anomaly.” Emma gestures between the other two. “Red can track anything that has a pulse. Mulan here could fight her way out of a skirmish with the entirety of the Imperial forces.”

The Jedi gives Emma a skeptical eyebrow raise. “And what exactly is it that you bring to the table, Swan?”

“I guess you could say I’m well-rounded. And if there’s shots to be called, I call them.”

Red attempts to be supportive. “She also technically paid for the ship.”

Emma gives Regina a smug nod. “I paid for the ship.”

The Jedi’s skeptical gaze has not shifted. “How formidable.”

 

 

 

 

“So these are your quarters. Nice and cozy.” Emma slides the door open to one of the recently cleared storage hulls, a long container of arms now serving as a cot. “Your home away from home.”

Regina steps into the room, turns in place, and then steps back out. “Charming.”

“I thought a Jedi was fine with sleeping on the floor. Want not, waste not, and all that.”

Regina says nothing. She’s looking at Emma expectantly and Emma is trying very hard not to think about how this woman manages to look _that_ attractive when she’s perturbed. Emma attempts to change the subject, like that’ll buy her any damn time.

“So what were you doing on Taanab? Not much going on there besides farms and...more farms.”

The Jedi’s lips, continually and mind-destroyingly kissable, are set in a firm line. “Do I ask about your business outside of this assignment, Swan?”

Emma exhales, frowning. “Got it. Fine. Enjoy your sleep. And unfortunately, you and your associate did not purchase our premium bounty hunter experience, so breakfast doesn’t come with your journey.” 

Regina smiles that tight-lipped sardonic little smile.

Emma could have sworn that Jedi weren’t supposed to understand irony.

 

 

 

 

Tatooine. Fucking fantastic.

Emma hates this scalded little hellhole of a planet. She especially hates Mos Eisley. She’s got too much past there, a rough looking present, and enough bad blood to make for a nasty future should she set foot in certain establishments.

“Refueling is refueling,” Red says, locking in to the Mos Eisley spaceport. “We’ll be in and out of here before you can so much as blink at someone who hates us.”

“That’s just about the entirety of the planet.” Mulan seems to be strapping up an extravagant amount of weaponry options. “Can’t be too cautious, though.”

Emma’s sprawled on the deck with her arms crossed, poised for a nap. “I’m not getting off this ship. Nothing good happens when I get off this ship.”

Red comes over the com from the cockpit. “Well, the Jedi just lowered the ramp, so you better get your ass out there, too.”

“Do I look like a babysitter to you?”

“I’m sorry, which one of us has a crippling distrust for all things Jedi?”

Of course, the truth is that Emma would dog them no matter. She has no intention of letting those two out of her sight for a second. But she doesn’t need the crew to know that, so she shrugs as if this is a great burden and slinks out of Red’s sight.

 

 

 

 

Regina is not wearing her robes. This is the first thing Emma notices, _of course_. She’s already frustrated with herself for being this interested in the way the Jedi looks, and that’s probably why Henry is looking at her with a great deal of confusion. She is inevitably scowling, because she is mad. Emma is mad because she is really attracted to this stupid Jedi in her stupid form-fitting black outfit.

“We don’t need a chaperone, bounty hunter.”

“I’m not chaperoning,” Emma says. “I’m just going to the same places you’re going.”

Regina seems to think about this for a moment, and then starts down the ramp, Henry always in close tow. She stops when Emma does not follow. “Don’t keep us waiting, Swan.”

Emma pretends like this wasn’t a subtle opportunity to see Regina descend something. She doesn’t need to be told twice.

 

 

 

 

“So,” Emma tries. “Why aren’t you dressed like a Jedi? I thought you had to wear your robes at all times. Jedi code.”

Regina almost glides through the market, unmoved by Emma’s questioning. That sly little smile is there again, as if she is only ever amused by the bounty hunter. “You seem to have a strong knowledge of the Code for someone with an equally strong distaste for our Order.”

“Know your enemy, I guess.”

Regina shoots Emma a look. “Are we enemies?”

“We aren’t friends,” Emma says, a little too quickly and a little defensively. The Padawan is looking at her now, and something about his expression makes her feel guilty for saying it.

“No,” Regina says. “I suppose we’re not.”

Emma attempts to change the subject. “What about you, kid? I see you’ve got the whole braid thing going on. Where’s your lightsaber?”

Henry gets a quiet little smile on his face, eyes on the ground like he’s embarrassed by the compliment. 

“I don’t have one,” he says.

“I thought you all had one. Built it in a cave or something. How long have you been a Padawan anyway?”

Henry looks at Regina, and then at Emma. “I’m not--”

At that second, the wrong end of someone’s head tail backs up into the scrawny kid, and knocks him to the ground. Regina extends a hand in time to pull him up - whether by touching him or using some other force, Emma can’t tell - and Henry slides into her side, looking shaken.

“Hey!” Emma gives the tail a nudge with her blaster. “Do you goddamned mind? It’s called a fucking promenade, you _walk_ on it.”

The tail turns around. Emma wishes she didn’t know that face, if you can call it a face.

“ _Swan_ ,” hisses Kradon, narrowing his black eyes, void of pupils.

“Swan? Never met ‘em. You’ve got the wrong human, friend.”

Kradon’s already on his com, probably calling in backup. He makes a swipe for her arm, nasty little assassin’s prick extending from his wrist and pressing into her elbow. “You won’t get off this rock without paying,” he growls. “Money or blood. Your decision, Swan.”

“I thought your species was supposed to be pacifist. Are you some kind of degenerate goddamned reject?”

“Do not test me, Swan.”

“You will unhand the Swan.” Regina’s voice makes something in Emma’s chest tighten. The Togruta takes a step back, releasing his grip on Emma. Emma takes this opportunity to knock him solidly into the nearest stall, shoot him in the foot, and run up the other end of the market, the kid’s hand in her fist.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Regina is keeping up, effortlessly. Maybe it’s some stupid Jedi trick. Effortlessly sprinting and looking attractive while doing it. Damn her.

“Did you seriously just call me ‘the Swan’?”

They slow around the corner, ducking into a doorway. Regina’s staring daggers at Emma, more emotion that Emma has seen out of the Jedi yet. “I didn’t realize we were landing on a planet with a bounty on your head.”

“It’s not a bounty. It’s more of a...misunderstanding.” Emma makes a fiddly motion with her hand. “Anyway, it’s a misunderstanding for another day. You got any more errands that take place in locations frequented by scoundrels?”

 

 

 

 

Turns out she does. Bucket loads of scoundrels. And because of Emma’s luck, it turns out to be all the scoundrels that hate Emma Swan. Case in point:

“Emma?”

That Twi’lek voice is unmistakable. So are those head tails and the leather outfit that barely covers anything.

“Cyna.” Emma sighs. It’s gonna be one of those days. “Long time, no see.”

“Last time I saw you, you’d stolen my brother’s ship and left with some pink-tits Zeltron girl.”

“Okay, first of all, I paid good money for that ship, fair and square--”

“You owe him and the Hutt three times what it’s worth. I’m sure they’d love to know that you’re skulking around town again.”

“Just making a pit stop, don’t expect me for long. Anyway Cyna, _always_ a pleasure--”

“Pleasure?” Cyna reaches forward, those little claws on her fingers a centimeter away from Emma’s throat. Twi’leks may be more famous for their dancing, but they can kill you without much effort or remorse. Emma knows this all too well. “The pleasure will be mine when I see you sliced into pieces. Almost like the pieces you left my heart in, as if I meant nothing to you.”

Emma takes a deep breath, eyes on Cyna’s curled little hand. “That was very sentimental of you, Cyna. You’re a real poet. Pieces of your heart, very romantic. Maybe you should drop your gig at Jabba’s and take the poetry on the road.”

“You’re a dog, Swan.”

“About that Zeltron girl, total misunderstanding. It might have seemed like we were involved, but in fact--”

“Please. You’d bang an automated door.”

“If this is about that droid, I did not know she was a droid, and even if I did, I was _not_ flirting with her--”

Cyna lunges, only to be thrown back against the nearest wall just as quickly. The market around them seems to barely notice, and Cyna gets to her feet, running in the opposite direction. Emma turns to Regina, whose palm is still raised.

“I would have done that sooner,” Regina says. “But I did want to hear about this supposed bounty of yours.”

“For the last goddamned time, it is not a bounty.”

Regina lifts her hand again. “Shall we retrieve the Twi’lek and ask her what it’s called, then?”

Emma has absolutely no intention of sticking around and finding out.

 

 

 

 

An hour later and back on the grounded ship - what Red has been doing with her time, Emma does not goddamned know - and the Jedi still hasn’t dropped it.

“Maybe I owe a Hutt some money. Maybe I don’t.” Emma’s shrugging, putting her feet up on the panel. “Fact is, it’s not really your business either way.”

This Jedi has her hands on her hips, all determined-like. Like she thinks she’s got two legs to stand on when this ain’t her ship or her jurisdiction. “It’s my business when it slows _my_ progress.”

“You don’t need to worry about your so-called progress, starflower. They might swing their massive ol’ weight around, but no goddamned slug is gonna ground my ship.”

“Swan!” Red’s in the porthole, the Clawdite’s human eyes wide. “We got some thugs. Looks like Jabba sends his regards.”

The Jedi raises an eyebrow, her jaw set in that irritatingly attractive way. “You were saying, Swan.”

 

 

 

 

A Gado and Iridonian are waiting for her at the bottom of the ramp. Emma already knows both their weak points, but doubts she’d be able to do anything and still have time to get out of this dock alive.

“Evening, boys. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

The familiar Iridonian’s orange eyes flash, and he rests his hand on one of his many concealed blasters. He frowns, making the lined tattoos of his face furrow. “You know why we’re here, Swan.”

“I’m a human, Zalak. I can’t read minds.”

The Gado - and really, how did a Gado get wound up in this mess - steps forward. “The Hutt says you have some friends with you. He would like to meet them.”

“I don’t have any friends, you boys know that. I live a lonely sad little life. I had a pet fish for a while, but I think I accidentally left him on Kiros. Or was it Shili?”

“You won’t be leaving this planet without reporting to the Hutt.” He pulls out an instrument that Emma is unfortunately too familiar with, its red tip glowing. “We can take care of this the easy way, or we can make it very, very hard. You choose, Swan.”

“Well, how’s a girl to decide? You boys are a goddamned Rystonian buffet of options for relocation. Do I go to uncertain death, or do I opt for the torture first? You know what they say - don’t give your helpless victims choices.”

“I will go with them.” Regina has appeared at the top of the ramp, all drama and hooded robe and foreboding voice. Of course she has to swoop in like this and do the supposedly heroic thing. Jedi are so damn predictable.

“Uh, Regina? I got this. We’re negotiating here.”

Regina snorts. “Really. These two fools pretending to be effective interrogators while you put on a hollow spectacle of verbiage?”

The Gado takes a step forward, hand under his cloak. Regina reaches one hand out and just like that, he is a foot off the ground, neck compressed, head lolling to the side. Horrible choking noises are escaping from his mouth and slits. As soon as the Iridonian can react, Regina has him in the air, too, grasping at his neck and swinging his legs for air. Regina barely seems strained.

“Useless,” the Jedi says, and then tosses both men across the dock, unconscious.

Emma has to take a few breaths to fully process what just happen. She gapes at Regina, and then at the limp bodies on the other side of the landing dock.

“Where the hell did you learn to negotiate?”

Regina shrugs, turning back to the ramp as if this were as simple as stirring a goddamned soup. “My mother.”

“Was your mother a Sith overlord or something?”

“No, but she married one.”

“I...” Emma blinks. “I don’t know if you’re serious, but I don’t know if I want to know.”

 

 

 

 

Tattooine is the last time Emma feels like she knows what she’s doing. The Jedi keeps things close to the belt - vague directions, hopping the ship from planet to planet like a skipping stone. Emma’s frustrated to be following orders, frustrated to not know how much longer they have until the pay, frustrated to catch herself watching Regina leaving rooms or stretching out her legs or giving Emma those strange, silent little looks. Looks where Regina seems to be seething and seeking something all at once.

Goddamned wise-ass lady monk with chokey hand powers. Why can’t Emma just find a nice Twi’lek girl whose religion demands that she wear a bikini and a bandolier? Why’s it gotta be the unattainable Jedi with the authority complex?

“You have a problem.”

Red’s giving her a raised eyebrow from the controls. Emma’s slumped in the co-pilot seat - not that Red ever lets her be the co-pilot, something about the time Emma steered them three galaxies off-course, _whatever_ \- and polishing her blaster.

“What’s my problem, Red?”

“ _She’s_ your problem.” Red tilts her head back, indicating to the cabin where Regina is currently reading with Henry. 

Emma pretends like she didn’t just swallow down a few breaths. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“See, I thought you didn’t like Jedi because you had some deep-seeded issue that you don’t want to talk to us about. Which is fine, I get it. We all got our demons. I shoulda figured you don’t like Jedi because they are forbidden from screwing you.”

Emma nearly drops her blaster. Instead, she uses the opportunity to shove its butt in Red’s face. “So goddamned out of line, Red.”

“i’m just saying. If you can’t finish this job because you can’t stop staring at that Jedi’s ass, I swear to god, Swan. There won’t be many planets left that I can’t find you and knock you out for losing us all this money.”

“I can finish the job. The only thing between us and this job is the fact that they won’t tell us where we’re going.”

“Play by their rules, paid by their rules. That’s how you pitched it to us the first time.”

“We’re going to get paid, Red.” Emma settles back down, shrugs into her jacket again. “Anyway, you won’t really hunt me down. You love me too much.”

“I love not being broke more.”

 

 

 

 

Emma wishes she could tell Red and Mulan that it’s not going to be a problem. She can handle her shit, right? She’s got this.

No, she doesn’t. Oh, she absolutely does not got this. Not in a thousand moons.

 

 

 

 


	2. episode two

 

 

 

 

On Manaan, she teaches the Padawan to swim. Not very efficiently, since there’s nothing but a refueling port on a platform and then an entire planet of water. Literally. An entire planet. 

“Best way to learn,” she says, pulling off her boots and trousers. “Take a flying leap into the deep end.”

The Padawan balks. “The whole planet is the deep end!”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, kid, but I don’t know what your master is teaching you half the time. Jedi have to be courageous. Courage means you jump off this dock and get your feet wet.”

Henry screws up his face. “I’ll get _all_ of me wet.”

“Life’s full of unpredictable scrapes, kid. Sometimes it rains. Sometimes it _only_ rains, because the planet has an impenetrable atmosphere of acid clouds. You gotta be prepared.”

“Most of Manaan’s species aren’t accounted for yet. We have no idea what could be under the surface, or if it’s even--”

Emma tosses the kid in. She doesn’t tell him that the surface just below the platform has an artificial catchment eight feet under the water, but it’s probably better to teach him the lesson.

“Hey,” he sputters, but then he’s paddling along, floating on his back. “I did it.”

From the porthole above, a Jedi smirks. Emma catches it.

 

 

 

 

On Biewan, Emma teaches the kid to shoot.

Which is, you know. Maybe useless to a Jedi, but Emma believes in the old-fashioned method as well as the newfangled one.

Shockingly enough, he ain’t half bad. He hits about a third of his targets, which was a lot more than she’d expected. Makes her kinda wonder about his whole Force senses, though.

“My Padawan should be attending to his studies.” This from Regina hours later, eating her dinner in her porthole as they orbit the planet. The light reflecting off his surface makes a halo around her head. Emma notices. There’s no version of the universe where Emma doesn’t notice. 

“I’m just giving him some life lessons, that’s all.” Emma’s not sure when they started eating together. It’s a thing they do, and sometimes Emma brings out the last of the drinks from Coruscant, refilling her flask. Regina always refuses, but there’s always a moment where she pushes it back to Emma, their hands touching. Emma always notices. Regina must, too, the way she looks at her. “Doesn’t hurt him to know what a gun does.”

“He knows.” Regina says, her tone of voice changing in a way Emma can’t pin. “He knows better than most of us.”

 

 

 

 

Emma’s in her bunk, fiddling with the holomap on her chest. She’s been projecting it on her ceiling, scrolling through star systems, trying to track the planets they’ve been stopping on. It makes no sense, especially when she pulls back to see their path. A zig zag of white lines double back on themselves and make jagged turns. Their course has been erratic, nonsensical. They’re wasting fuel and resources. They’re wasting time. 

That’s when there’s a knock on her door. 

“Red, if this is about that goddamned -- oh.”

It’s the Jedi. Emma searches her face, unreadable as ever.

“Can I, uh...help you?” Emma is acutely aware of the fact that the Jedi is wearing her full robe.

“May I come inside?”

“Sure.” Emma closes the door behind Regina, takes a step back. She fishes for the holomap again, turning it on. “Is this about the next destination. I was just looking at the map, and I gotta be honest with you, this doesn’t make any--”

The Jedi has dropped her robe. The Jedi is not wearing very much.

The holomap gets shoved to the floor, and Emma ends up somewhere between the Outer Rims and a whole lot of good.

 

 

 

 

“Okay, I know for a fact that was _not_ in the Jedi Code.”

The Jedi - or, like, _whatever_ she is at this point - is perched on the edge of Emma’s cot, naked as three moons, putting up her hair with a leather thong. The leather thong is the most Jedi thing about her, because Emma is one hundred percent sure that these folks are about as celibate as they come.

“The Code is open to grey interpretations.” Regina pulls her robe over one shoulder, looking back at Emma. “I would think you of all people would understand that.”

“I’m not saying I didn’t appreciate that back there. That was _extremely_ appreciated. In fact, if there were repeats of that particular situation, I don’t think there would be an end to my appreciation. It’s just, well...you are not at all what I thought you were.” 

Yet another one of those mysterious smiles. “We are all prone to our secrets, Swan.”

“Are you a Jedi?” 

Regina steps off the cot, tying the robe around her waist. She holds out a hand, and Emma’s blaster goes flying across the room and into her grasp. She releases it, and it waits there in midair, just above her outstretched palm. Emma watches her carefully, starting to regret that she hadn’t hidden her weapons before letting this woman into her bed.

“I have a deep connection to the Force, yes.”

“I don’t know how I feel about a woman who can’t answer a question without a gun in her hand. Or, er, floating just above her hand.” Emma sits up, hands braced to launch her off the cot if necessary. She slides her hand under her pillow, feeling for the compartment that houses a hidden blaster. “I’ll ask one more time. Are you a Jedi?”

Regina cocks her head, narrowing her eyes. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“First of all, you have yet to give me a straight answer to the question. That’s a big ol’ red flag. Secondly, I don’t think that kid of yours would know a lightsaber from a Gendalorian fish stick. I agreed to this mission based on the trust that you are who you said you are. If you’re not, then that agreement is null and void.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say. Henry is my Padawan. I am trained in the Force. I am training him in the Force, as my Master did before me. ”

“Where’s your lightsaber?”

And from space god only knows where, Regina produces a lightsaber. It ignites a deep purple. 

“Bypassing the obvious question of where the hell you’ve been keeping that, it doesn’t prove anything. A Jedi cannot love.”

Regina smirks. “Do you feel that I am in love with you, Swan?”

“Love, sex, whatever. You can’t do it.”

“Do you follow all the rules, bounty hunter?”

“That’s different. I’m not betraying some ancient order and its religion when I have casual sex with whoever.”

Regina slips that lightsaber back into his hiding place, and arranges her robes. “Good evening, Swan.”

And just like that, the Jedi wins again. Goddamnit.

 

 

 

 

Emma’s watching the landing, Regina over her shoulder. This was the last set of coordinates the Jedi had given them, a desolate planet of ruins and golden fields. Farotel. 

“Tell me this is the last stop, starflower, and I’ll kiss you right here, swear to god.”

Regina rolls her eyes. “Save it for the target, Swan.”

But Regina does kiss her, actually, and the kiss is long and hard and Emma feels hands knitting behind her head, feels her shoulders being pulled forward. When the kiss is finished, Regina’s head tucks under Emma’s chin for a moment. Emma’s almost unsure of how to proceed, but she wraps her arms around her, pulls her in closer.

“That was...unexpected.”

When she steps back, Regina’s expression is unreadable as ever. “You should take care today.”

Emma snorts. “I always take care. They used to call me Ol’ Take Care Swan. Old family name.”

“I mean it.” 

“So do I.” Emma opens her jacket, revealing a plethora of handheld weaponry. “Mulan and Red aren’t the only ones who like to saddle up, you know.”

“We have to go alone.”

“Alone?” Emma snorts. “Fat chance. We don’t work that way.”

Regina shakes her head. “They will not let us in with more than two. It must be you and I. Henry stays on the ship with your partners.”

“That’s not--”

“Then you don’t get the hit.” 

“But--”

“It’s the only way.”

There’s the typical bumping and shifting as the ship lands, a few yards off of the ruins. Regina tilts forward, and Emma catches her, finds her in her arms for the second time that day.

“Please,” Regina says, firm rather than pleading, and Emma nods.

 

 

 

 

“I...remember this place.”

Mulan raises an eyebrow. “You’ve been here before?”

“I don’t know.” Emma runs her hand over the marble pillar, something sparking in her chest. “It feels like I have, but that doesn’t make any sense.” She turns back to Red, trying to muster up a confident grin and a good point at the ol’ clunker. “You and Fa stay with the ship, okay? Keep my baby nice and safe for me. If she has so much as a dent when I get back, you’re both gonna be putting on spacesuits and hitching a ride home.” 

Red shakes her head. “I don’t like this. We never split up for the takedown.”

“Follow the plan, take home the prize.” Emma shrugs, strapping an extra blaster to her thigh. “I thought you were here for the money, Red.”

“I just want to make sure we’re still alive when it gets here.”

“Come on, kids. Where’s that unshakeable bounty hunter confidence?” Emma attempts one of those winning smiles of hers. “I mean, really. What could possibly go wrong?”

 

 

 

 

“Uh, was this part of the plan?”

Emma is referring to the army of shadowy figures that have appeared on the fringes of the ruins, quickly surrounding them. Regina is standing completely still. 

“There’s something you should know about me, Emma,” she whispers.

Emma’s already drawn her blaster, coding in a shield into her belt. “You have got to be kidding me. _Now_ is the time you want to reveal whatever it was you spent the last four months pretending you were oh so subtly hiding from me?”

“I was not always a Jedi.”

“Color me fucking surprised.” The figures are closing in, close enough now to show they are about two feet taller than Emma and all wearing hooded robes. “Now you’re going to tell me you’re really Queen of the Space Freaks.”

“I _was_ a queen. Everything I had was taken from me. Everything but Henry.” Regina’s hands are starting to glow. “I cannot possibly explain it to you now, nor can I make you understand. But I want you to know that I will make sure you live today. Whatever happens, I will protect you. What happened between us, it wasn’t...it wasn’t a lie.”

“I suppose you’re not going to tell me what you’re protecting me from,” Emma says, and something hits her in the side.

 

 

 

 

She wakes up on a cold stone floor. Something is pulling her up onto her knees, and she can see a faint red light around her, feel the sparks of Force on her skin. She is in a throne room. Someone is sitting on the throne, and beside them stands Regina.

“Regina,” she starts, ready to walk, but whatever has propped her upright has also prevented her from moving. Regina looks down at Emma, her mouth a thin line. There is something like terror in her eyes, but it’s hard to tell the way this woman has spent the last few months redefining every emotion she betrays.

“Our guest is awake,” comes the eerie voice from the throne. Because of fucking course it’s eerie, of fucking course this whole mission was a trap, and if Emma could roll her eyes and throw up her hands and slap herself in the forehead for how many signals she dodged for that fine, fine Jedi behind, she would. But this whole Sith forcefield is stopping her from doing that. 

“Who the hell are you?”

“Oh, dearie. You cannot speak my name, so I must not give it to you. Regina, you’ve done well. She’s still strong and kicking, just as she should be. You were always such a gratifying apprentice.”

“I am _not_ your apprentice,” Regina hisses, and the way she fidgets, Emma realizes she is being held in place by some sort of force field herself.

“Well, certainly not anymore. Otherwise I wouldn’t have to restrain you like that, would I? It is a great pity, of couse, that we cannot stand as equals as we once did, but your life mistakes are not mine to erase. Still, you went through with it, didn’t you? And I thought you wanted to be so moral and _good_ now, such a beacon of light for that little whelp you found.”

Regina looks like she wants to spit in his face. “You and I both know that you gave me no choice.”

The Sith turns back to Emma. “Should we fill you in, dearie? I’m sure you’re waiting with baited breath for the part where I let you in on the dark and terrible truths of my plan. I do love a good cliched evil-doer-tell-all.” He flicks his wrist, and Regina slides forward like a toy. “Your faithful Jedi companion was once the daughter of a long line of violent and warlike queens. Her mother fell in with a Sith, and sold her for power and glory. The Sith took her as his apprentice,” and here the Sith takes a miniature bow, “and trained her into a potent device, capable of slaying entire star systems. Her mother and I had only one star system in mind, though. Can you guess it? This is where we come to you, Emma.”

“Oh, I can’t wait.” Emma continues to struggle against her restraints, but her sass costs her. The nearest crony has a rod in her side, sending an electric wave of pain through her bones. She holds back a scream, wincing as she grins up at her captor. “That the best you got, fuckstick?”

“Your rudeness does not befit a princess.”

“Princess?” Emma laughs, spitting blood onto the tiles. “You got the wrong bounty hunter, asshole.”

“Oh, I am not mistaken. The last of the royal blood, finally here under my...well, _your_ roof. Do you remember me, Swan?” The Sith’s eyes are red and gold under his hood. His skin seems green, but it keeps glinting in the light and it’s harder to tell, all scales and shine. She can see that awful smile, though, unmistakable. “But how could you? You were so young. Maybe you’ll remember them.”

A hologram begins playing in the middle of the floor, as if the room itself is revisiting its memories. A mousy woman in a singlet and long robes is standing with a broad blonde man, both of them looking confidently forward. Their phantom feet descend the stairs, smiling at the invisible crowd around them. If Emma could move to her left, they’d be looking right at her, right into her eyes.

Something about that kills her.

“Welcome to your family reunion, Emma Swan. I’m sorry this is the best I can do given the circumstances.”

“I don’t have a family.”

“Of course you have a family.” The Sith leans forward. “Everyone has a _family_ , Emma Swan. Did you think you just appeared on the streets of Coruscant one day, all dirty-cheeked rapscallion of you? No, my dear. You are much more impressive than that. You see, the royal family of Farotel has quite a legacy. Some of the finest Jedi in history are connected to this bloodline. Do you know why?”

He flicks his wrist, and Emma is flung forward across the floor, her hands forced out in front of her. The tips of her fingers are glowing.

“What the hell are you doing?” She chokes, tasting heat in her throat.

“Unleashing your potential, dearie. Your bloodline carries some of the purest connection with the Force known to history. We don’t know precisely why. We simply know that it does. It serves to create a very powerful imbalance. Quite unfortunate.” The Sith closes his hand, and Emma’s hands close into fists. “This very planet your family ruled and the star system it governed, well, it was much coveted by its neighbor and her queens. And this power that you contain? It serves as a great drain for those of us who occupy the other side of the Force. We had little choice, Swan. You all had to die.”

Emma can feel her heart in her throat. Despite everything that is pulsing in her, despite the pain and the confusion, she attempts a grin. “Good job with that, by the way.”

“Yes, you managed to get away.” The Sith laughs, one of the worse noises Emma’s heard in her likely-to-be-shortened life. “Soon to be amended, of course. All thanks to darling Regina. Such a pity her mother couldn’t be here to see her daughter fulfill a lifelong purpose.”

“Never send a Sith to do a bounty hunter’s job.”

“Oh, Regina isn’t a Sith. Not anymore. She thinks she is _reformed_.” Regina comes jerking down the stairs towards Emma, her face closer to Emma’s. Emma can see the pain in her eyes. “She thought she could adopt some little refugee and start her life all over again. She’s almost adorably ignorant.”

“Emma,” Regina whispers, and _fuck_ , are those tears in her eyes? “Emma, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, my.” The Sith sounds stomach-curdingly gleeful. “Regina, you’ve always been such a fool for hope and romance. Don’t make this even more delightful for me than it has to be.”

Regina seems to be straining as hard as she can, and she manages to turn her head, groaning to take a step towards the Sith. “Gold, we don’t have to kill her. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“Sweet Regina, you’re not trying to bargain for her, are you?” The Sith leans over to one of his guards. “The boy. Find him.”

“No,” Regina snarls, jerking in place, equal parts anger and despair. Something is sparking in her fist. “You _promised_ me, Gold. You promised Henry would be safe.”

“I promised no such thing, dearie. I told you to bring me the princess, and I would see to you and your boy. I did not say I would see to your safety, or your release. I said I would see to you. And I am seeing to you.”

The Sith reaches out a hand, forcing Regina up into the air, her body contorting. Emma twists against her restraints, but it’s useless.

“We had...a deal...” Regina croaks, eyes narrowed. If she wasn’t suspended in the air by someone’s else’s hand, Emma figures she’d be a terrifying opponent right now.

“Siths do not make deals, Regina. You should know that by now.” 

“Emma, listen to me,” Regina says, and they are both shot up into the air, waves upon waves of pain. Emma can barely breathe. “Emma, I meant it all. I meant all of it.”

The Sith cackles, hands outstretched as he suspends them. “A Jedi shall not know love, Regina.”

Something in Regina’s face shifts, her eyes narrowing through the pain. Emma watches as her entire body starts to glow, her fingertips curling. Under her breath, Regina growls.

“I am not a Jedi,” she says, and the entire room fills up with blinding red light.

 

 

 

 

When Emma wakes up for the second time that day, Regina is kneeling over her, brow furrowed in concern.

“Emma? Are you awake?”

Emma tries to sit up, even though she feels like someone’s been beating her with a bag of space bricks for the last hour. “What happened?”

“I defeated my master...for now.” Regina is already looking over her shoulder towards the door, biting her lip. “It’s a matter of time before they catch up.”

“How did we get out?”

“I still have some control over my energy.” Regina’s hand is sparking faintly. “And I’m sorry that you were affected by it as well. I had to do that.”

“Knock me unconscious? Fucking hell, I’m gonna have brain damage after the number of times I’ve been hit in the head today.” She looks around her at the pale room, seemingly full of empty cargo. “Are we on a ship?

“Another part of the ruined palace. It appears my old master has been using this as his command for a while.” Regina helps Emma to her feet. “I tried using the comms, but I can’t get word to your ship.”

“Red’s not stupid. No word from us and she would have pulled up into Plan B.”

“What’s Plan B?”

“Plan B is evasive retreat until further notice. _Shit_.” Emma rubs at her very sore head, looks Regina up and down, remembers literally everything _else_ that happened in the last hour, and then steps a good few feet away from her. “Wait a second, no. _No_. You can’t just drag me off to some other part of the evil lair and pretend like we’re fine.”

Despite what appears to be a wave of extreme frustration, Regina sighs and grits her teeth, attempting to be calm. “Okay, we’re not _fine_. We still need to escape.”

“ _We_ don’t need to do anything. I need to escape. You can stay here and knit a sweater for all I goddamned care.”

Regina frowns. “And how exactly do you think you’ll do that?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m working on a plan right now, one that will be foolproof and ballsy and make sure that I come out a hero.”

There’s a noise outside the door, another blinding light, and Regina’s directing lightning at whoever just tried to come inside. A slightly smoking body drops next to Emma’s feet.

“Time’s up for planning,” Regina says, her voice husky from the effort, and Emma has to whole-heartedly agree. 

“No worries, I’ve got it,” Emma says, and starts running down the corridor. Because her plan as of now is to run down the corridor. No one said it was a good plan, but it’s a _plan_ , damn it.

 

 

 

 

“So what’s your plan now, bounty hunter?”

Emma is frantically searching the corridor for a door to the docking station, or a trap door, or goddamned anything. She’ll take a tauntaun in a sparkly crown at this point. Regina is still right there with her, and Emma cannot bring herself to actually say no, to actually knock her out and leave her on this godforsaken planet. Not that she could feasibly incapacitate her, considering the full arsenal of weapons she brought with her are conveniently in the hands of their enemy, but she wouldn’t. She looks at Regina’s face, and she wouldn’t. Doesn’t stop her from scowling and putting on the ol’ Swan bluff, though.

“What’s it to you? I still have half a mind to leave you here with your friends at the Sith party.”

“They are not my friends. They’d kill me as quick as they’d kill you.”

“And whose fault is that? No one asked you to put on a show at the last minute.”

“It wasn’t a show.” Regina has genuine remorse in her voice, and Emma knows it, but she’s not in the mood. At least not the specific mood that would require anything but angry kissing. “I thought I could convince him to spare you.”

“Well, you wouldn’t have had to try and spare me if you hadn’t put me in a position to be spared in the first place.”

“I’m sorry.”

And goddamn it all, she really wants to accept that apology. Of course right now she’s preoccupied with the whole escaping-uncertain-death thing. “Sorry isn’t an escape route, Regina.”

“Actually, I might have an escape route.”

“Escape me off a fucking cliff, you mean.”

“I’m serious.” Regina says, and opens the hatch onto the landing bay, revealing a few dozen ships. “How about one of those?”

 

 

 

 

“I hope you can shoot better than you fly.”

“I don’t fly the ship - Red does.” Emma shoots her a look. “And I hope you’re as good at evading enemy fire as you are at lying, because then we’re set.” 

“I am _not_ a liar.”

“Oh, is it hard being double-crossed by a double-crosser when you are an expert double-crossing double-crosser?” 

Regina yanks on the controls, nearly flipping the ship and knocking Emma into her seat. She gives Emma, now angrily rubbing at her head, an overly saccharine smile. “Oops.”

Emma wastes no time in righting the battle station and glaring down at Regina. “Does this ship have an escape pod that’s about your size? I need to eject you into nothingness.”

“A Jedi flourishes in nothingness.”

“Too bad you’re a Sith.”

Regina bristles again, and down goes the ship. Emma nearly sails into the wall this time. “I am _not_ a Sith.”

“Could have fooled me. Once a Sith, always a--”

Regina’s knuckles are white around the controls. “Would you like to do a barrel roll, Miss Swan? Because this ship is not up to standard for a barrel roll.”

“Oh, and now she’s threatening me!”

“I’m negotiating. The ship is my bargaining piece.”

“At this point, I really do hope your old man’s buddies catch up with us, because I would rather be blown to fucking pieces than spend another second in this metal prison with you.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Swan.”

“No, I’m serious. I will take the freezing void of space to your treacherous ass of treachery.”

The tiniest smile is playing at the edge of Regina’s mouth. “You seemed very fond of my treacherous ass when we--”

“ _Nope._ Not happening. Don’t think that you can use my mistakes against me.”

“So you’re calling it a mistake now?”

“Each occurrence was an individual mistake that makes up a huge overarching theme of mistake-making.” Emma’s controls give the telltale two beeps. “Oh good, honey! Company’s here!”

Regina swings the ship into evasive maneuvers. “Why don’t you make sure our guests are comfortable?”

“My pleasure.” Emma narrows in on the first of the pursuers. “But don’t think I’m done with this fight.”

“You’re going to continue yelling about this while we’re attempting to avoid certain death?”

“Absolutely. I’m not about to... _fuck_ , got ‘em...let your ultimate betrayal slide.”

“On our right, closing in. As for my betrayal, I admit that I began the mission with the intent of betraying you, yes. Gold came to me when I was in hiding. He told me that I could find you and bring you to him, or he would kill Henry. My son’s safety was more important than -- _hey,_ try hitting them on the _first_ shot this time -- some bounty hunter I’d never met. But then I got to know you, and I realized how much harder it would be to go through with it. I thought that if I gave you a fighting chance, if I could find some way of -- _watch it!_ \-- getting you out alive...”

“Is this your version of me getting out alive?”

“Well, yes, but -- three more, coming in fast -- I wasn’t about to let you attempt it alone.”

“I don’t think you had much of a choice there, friend. Your stepfather is a real piece of work.”

“He’s an acquired taste.”

“He just tried to _murder_ us! He is _still_ trying to murder us, actually, just in space this time.”

“Then let’s make sure he doesn’t succeed. Time to put those Force instincts of yours to work.”

“Right, like I’m supposed to believe that I’m some sort of long-lost Jedi prodigy--”

“You are if you want to be.”

“What I want to be is alive in another few minutes.”

“Let’s both hope you get your--”

There’s static on the comm, and then an all-too familiar voice.

“Hey ladies, need a hand with these ugly bastards?”

Emma nearly shrieks, shooting a fist into the air. “Red, I could kiss you on the face right now.”

“That’s gross, Swan. More of that kinda talk and I’ll shoot a hole in your ship myself.”

“What took you so damn long?”

“Well, let’s see. An ambush by some Sith cult, Fa Mulan over here deciding she could single-handedly fight off an army of the bruisers, and then me having to figure out how to take off with a couple of ‘em crawling on top of the ship.”

“How’d that go?”

Emma can hear the cocky grin in Red’s voice. “Oh, I think they had a nice view of the planet’s surface on the ride up.”

Regina’s voice is full of concern. “Is Henry alright?”

“As a matter of fact, Your Majesty, he is. Spun us quite a yarn about a Sith step-granddaddy and trying to outrun him all over the galaxy. And I apologize for our captain being such a toolbag. If we’d known you were a long-lost queen, we probably wouldn’t have made you sleep in the storage room.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “You know they set us up, Red.”

“If you heard it from the kid, Swan, you’d hear they had no choice. Been a nasty couple of years for them. Did you know they captured Regina and tortured her for a month before she agreed to the deal?”

Emma mutes the comm. “Is that true?”

Regina says nothing. Emma can only imagine her expression. 

“But hey,” Red comes in again. “We can catch up when we’re done whipping these shitheads’ Sith asses. Let’s finish these bastards. We’ve got your back.”

 

 

 

 

They’re standing on the edge of a dense forest on a planet in the Outer Rims. Uninhabited, wild, isolated. The kind of place you take a mark to finish them off without evidence.

Mulan and Red are waiting in the ship, and Emma knows that they’re watching from the cockpit, palms in sweaty fists. 

“There’s a house just beyond those trees. Follow the creek into the woods, you’ll find it. We use it as a hideout, but it’s got beds, supplies, whatever you need. They won’t find you here. The whole planet’s off the maps, and we’ve got about three dozen force fields set up in this area alone. As long as you’re here, you’re invisible.”

Regina’s got an arm around Henry, pulling her into her side as if she’s trying to keep him there forever. She’s staring at Emma, half surprise, half something else Emma can’t quite place.

“I thought you were going to kill us,” Regina says, all quiet and cool defiance.

“Then you don’t know me that well,” Emma shrugs, half a mind to pull up her jacket and go. This is hard enough, for reasons she doesn’t particularly feel like touching on at this moment. “When Red makes her runs through this sector, she’ll drop off whatever you need. If you feel like leaving, she’ll take you. If you’re still not safe, you stay as long as you want. It’s no matter to us.”

“And what about you, Emma?”

Emma swallows down whatever it is that’s making her chest so warm and achy. “What about me?”

“Will you be returning here, too?”

“No,” she says finally, scuffing her boots into the ground. “I’m moving on. Bounty hunters, we don’t, uh, we don’t try to cross the same paths twice.”

Regina looks at her, _really_ looks at her, and then nods once. Twice. “Take care, then.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Back on the ship, Emma makes them wait to take off until they see the lights of the shelter through the trees.

“You okay, Swan?” Mulan asks, a rare look of pure concern from above where she’s polishing her guns.

Emma nods, shrugs. “What’s the next mark, Red?”

“Coruscant. Listen, Emma, you wanna say a proper goodbye, neither of us has a problem with--”

“Coruscant, then. Let’s go.”

The ceiling of her bunk has never seemed wider. Seems wider than all the stars in the sky tonight, actually.

 

 

 

 


	3. epilogue

 

 

 

 

Five years and sixteen parsecs later.

 

 

 

 

A lone starship is landing on the far meadow, dispersing the undergrowth and causing the nearest ring of green and blue trees to shudder and wave. A human, a long-limbed teenage boy, looks up from his woodpile, turns off the laser blade of his axe and slings it over his shoulder.

The ship is unfamiliar, and he knows the routine.

From the edge of the meadow, he can see the figure that descends from the ship, a helmet covering their features. Bipedal, humanoid for sure. They’re wearing scarred red armor, tall boots. He waits in the trees, uses a handhold device to scan the ship for weapons. The ship has its own defense system, but it’s been turned off. The figure is unarmed.

When it removes its helmet, a golden braid falls out. The boy stands up from his cover in the trees.

“Emma?”

She looks at him, crinkles her eyes as she peers in his direction. “Henry? Is that you?”

Henry, all six feet of him, grins and waves. “What are you doing here?”

She laughs at the sight of him, hand on her hips. “Boy, what is in the damn water on this planet? You sure you aren’t half-Wookie?”

“I _am_ an orphan,” he says, embracing her. “Could be part-something-tall for all we know.”

“With a Wookie appetite, too, way you’ve been growin’. Eating your mother out of house and home, I’m sure.” Emma tries to keep a straight face but knows her smile is turning inside out. “How is she?”

Henry shrugs, screwing up his mouth. “She’s fine,” he says.

“Seven years and you still don’t know how to properly lie, huh?” Emma sighs. “She home?”

“Probably has dinner started.”

“Then I’m sure she won’t mind if I join. I know she likes a good ol’ bounty hunter at her table.”

“Right, Emma.” Henry hides a grin. “Did Red tell you I’m joining up? Next cycle and I’m off to Corellia to join the Alliance.”

“I bet your mother loves that.”

“She says they need minds like mine. People who like to read, and strategize, and all that.”

“Hearts like yours, too.” Emma claps him on the back. “I’ll have to keep an eye out for you out there. Can’t hurt to have a bounty hunter’s skills in a pinch, right?”

“She’ll probably ask you to follow me around,” Henry says, rolling his eyes.

“Really? That sounds nothing like your mother,” Emma winks.

The house is still tucked between the trees, smoke rising from the chimney. Emma hasn’t been to this planet in seven years, just as she promised. Not that it’s stopped either of the planet’s occupants from leaving lately. Two years ago, Henry went to the Temple of Law on Coruscant at Regina’s insistence. The Rebellion apparently drew him more than his textbooks, because he’s back now before he enlists, as he explains on the walk. 

As for Regina--

“Hey Jedi,” Emma says, standing before the house. Regina looks up from her garden, a silver streak in her hair that Emma doesn’t remember the last time she saw her. Regina narrows her eyes, smirking. 

“Henry,” Regina says, never taking her eyes off the guest. “What did I tell you about bringing bounty hunters home?”

Henry shrugs those knobby shoulders of his, making a beeline for the door. “I’ll set the table, Mom,” he calls, before not so subtly leaving them alone.

Regina gets to her feet, a basket of vegetation against her hip. “Heard you just barely made it out of Ebenmal, Swan.”

“It’s a tough life, bounty hunting.” Emma attempts to keep her grin as effortless as possible, but damn it if she isn’t shaking in her boots. “Someone once told me I could be a real Jedi prodigy if I put my mind to it, but I realized I’m better suited to blasters and a nice quiet life.”

“You never live quietly.” Regina takes a step towards her, all the weight of the world in that step. “I suppose Henry invited you to stay for dinner.”

“Is that alright with the mistress of the house?”

Regina closes the gap between them, still wearing that knowing little smirk. “You know very well that you can stay for as long as you like.” The wind stirs her hair, and Emma could stand here all day, drinking her in. “Oh, but if you are going to come in for dinner, you should know that Henry doesn’t think we’ve seen each other in years. He thinks I only get off the planet to do official business.”

Emma snorts. “I _am_ official business.”

“I’d rather he think that his mother is a rational woman, and doesn’t keep making the very dangerous mistake of meeting some scarred bounty hunter on various moons for questionable proceedings.”

“I’m sure he’d be comforted by the fact that it’s only every few cycles or so.”

“Don’t go poisoning my character, Swan.”

Emma shrugs, grinning. “Fine, fine. I’m sworn to secrecy. May I come in?”

“Only if you take off those hideous boots.”

Emma feigns outrage, following Regina in the door. “Do you know how much I paid for these?”

“You stole them, didn’t you?”

“I won them in a bet, which is hardly the same thing--”

“Stolen goods outside, please.”

“Henry, your mother is a tyrant. Is this why you’re joining the Rebel Alliance?”

But it only takes one well-timed kiss to shut up a bounty hunter.

 

 

 

 


End file.
